


Fairies

by httpstiles



Series: To Be Pack [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Fae & Fairies, Happy Ending, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Sacrifice, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpstiles/pseuds/httpstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairies. Little (not really) shits that think Stiles is the perfect sacrifice for the gods. It also turns out that they're a bit more nefarious than any of the pack could have guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairies

“Fairies? On Hale land?”

“Yes,” Derek grunts.“Is that really so hard to believe?”

“You'll accept the idea of werewolves, but not fairies?” Danny asks.

“That shit only happens in Disney movies.”

“These aren't like the Disney movie fairies,” Isaac interjects.

“He's right. We're talking, hypnotic enchantments, controlling nature, retractable, elongated nails and teeth, and arms that hang down to their thighs. The weirdest part is when they use their glamor. They can literally look like the most beautiful person. They can be very tricky.”

“Why are you telling us though?” Stiles asks.

“The full moon is coming over your Thanksgiving break. They don't celebrate the same, but it's a time of thanks for the gods and is usually the time that fairies like these hold ceremonies. Sacrificial ceremonies.”

“Why would we be sacrificed?”

“Shape shifting used to he viewed as magic that only gods possessed.”

“What about me?” Stiles asks. “I don't really have a part in nature.”

“I don't know. But you're human, any human can be taken. Which is why the night of the full moon we'll be patrolling. Watch out for yourself and each other. Watch out for any random people from the city.” He turns to Stiles and Danny. “You two need to stay home.”

“Gotcha boss man.” Stiles adds a salute and laughs while Jackson rolls his eyes.

“Next pack meeting is Friday night.”

 

The next pack meeting ends up being cancelled because a flock of fairies attack the Hale House. Scott barely manages to get away and call Stiles.

“Stiles!”

“Dude I'm driving! What do you need? I'm almost there.”

“No, don't show up. The fairies attacked man they're wicked. Just go home and we'll call you when they pull off.”

“You mean they're not trying to kill you?”

“No, uh, it just looks like a random attack.”

“Scott, that sounds like a distraction.”

“You're right. It- SHIT! Stiles, go home!” The call ends and Stiles pulls over on the side of the road, contemplating going to help, or going home.

There's a reason that they attacked and it's not to kill so Stiles, reluctantly, goes home.

Halfway down the street that leads to the main road, fog rolls over.

“You've got to be kidding me,”Stiles mutters to himself, turning on his headlights. He continues down, but stops when he sees a girl in a bloody dress. Of course, that should scream "keep going", but Stiles has never been one to be scared of the big bads in the woods. The girl runs up to his jeep and he jumps out to meet her.

“Weird things in the woods,” she says. “It sounds crazy, but there were these things out there and they tried to take me!”

“Hey, hey I believe you!” He puts his hands on her shoulders and her heavy breathing slows down. She looks at him with wide eyes.

“You- you do?”

“Yes. Do you need to go to the hospital? Do you need a ride?”

“No. I just need you.” Stiles' heart skips a beat and next thing he knows his head is connecting with his jeep. The hit doesn't knock him out, but flares in pain and the girl takes him down.

 

“Call him again!” a bloody Derek shouts.

“I told him to go home!” Scott says again.

“He didn't come here nor did he go home!” Jackson lashes out. “He's not with Danny either!”

“Where is he?” Isaac asks. “We've checked the woods, maybe we need to check the streets? You said he was driving when you spoke to him.”

“Everyone searches now,” Derek growls. He turns to Scott and his eyes flash red. “Why are you so sure they were after Stiles?”

“Think about it! Stiles said if they're not trying to kill us, what are they doing? It was a distraction. They said they were there for the spark. This one time that Stiles needed the Mountain Ash to help us protect his dad, Deaton told him to be the spark when he used it. It has to be Stiles.”

 

He wakes up with a jerk, quick. The light around him is blinding at first, but simmers down to the glow that it really is, emitting from torches that rest in the dirt. It forms a circle that Stiles sits alone in.

“Spark!” A voice booms behind him. He turns only to realize that he's restrained to a chair. His hands are bloody, wrists are tied to the arms of a wooden chair. Whatever the restraints are, they're digging into his wrists. They seem to be vines with thorns, but they're harder, almost like sticks. They're thick, too, and when when he pulls, more blood trickles down.

The same applies to his ankles, which is when he realizes he only has his underwear, short, green boxers. The vines on his ankles run up his calf, stabbing into him everywhere. He stops struggling to look back for the one who shouted.

“Spark!” Another voice booms, this time to his right.

“Who's there?” He shouts back. “Show yourself!” He turns again and gets a face full of an ugly face and long teeth smiling.

“You're the spark? I feel it, but I still expected more. Someone more built with less of a pretty face.” The thing circles around and rests behind him, hands, with talons as nails, rest on his shoulder. “Bring the crown and sacrificial wear!”

In a second, a smaller creature of the same structure runs into view. In his hands, he holds a long line of purple flowers and a crown, seeming to be made of the same vine restraints he has, but with wilting roses. If that doesn't scream "you're going to die", then nothing does.

“Place them.” Whatever the flowers are, they burn. The line gets wrapped around his chest and the chair and then the crown, loose and pokey, gets set on his head.

“They're loose. Make them fit.” A snap echoes and the crown begins to dig into his scalp. He can't help the scream that escapes.

When it's done, blood runs down his face on all sides and the giant lei of flowers begin to tighten. Whatever connects them is strong and holds him tight against the back of the chair. The little flowers irritate his skin, burning and leaving marks the same shape of the the flowers.

“What are you doing?” He finally grits out.

“You're our sacrifice to the gods, little spark.”

“Why do you keep calling me a spark?”

“Oh! He doesn't even know!” The small creature laughs. “All the better,” it adds, digging nails into Stiles' shoulder.

 

It's an hour later when the moon is at it's peak. It's only a half moon, but Stiles guesses that the full moon isn't needed. The creature, he's now decided is a female, rests on his lap, staring at the sky.

“Soon now,” it says, trailing a long finger along Stiles' neck. “Soon your pretty face will be dead.” She leaves taunting cuts in his cheek, three in a row. His body shivers from the cold and fear. “You know, I'd like to think that in some alternate universe, you'd be courting me and I'd gladly-”

“That's nice. So shut up,” Stiles grits out between his teeth. “This isn't an alternate universe and I don't want to hear your fantasies.” He turns his face, looking away towards the woods.

“Feisty.” She readjusts her self, managing to avoid vines and stares at the side of Stiles' face. His jaw clenches under her glare.

“They're not going to find you.”

“Why is that?”

“I believe they won't.”

“I believe they will.”

“I believe it's time to begin,” a voice says behind them. The one that sits on him stands immediately and bows.

“Elder,” she greets. “Our sacrifice is ready.”

“Good, good,” "Elder" responds. “Stake him and begin the symbols!”

A flurry of fairies emerge from seemingly nowhere. Some run towards the torches, removing them and making the circle larger. Three run to the dirt in front of him and behind drawing symbols that Stiles has never seen. One last one, old, walks up to Stiles. He says nothing as he pulls out two sticks, the size of a pencil, raising them and starts chanting. When he finishes, the fairy brings them down, stabbing through Stiles' hand and into the chair.

He screams.

His screams carry on as chanting gets louder and pain erupts from his chest. In the distance, howls erupt in unison. Stiles can distinctly hear three.

“Hurry! His wolves will be here soon and we must be ready to attack and proceed with the ceremony!” The chanting gets louder again and Stiles screams out at the same time that the pack bursts through the clearing.

Tears are streaming down his face at this point. The vines securing his limbs begin to tighten, the crown too as petals from the red roses fall away, turning black on his lap, and the flowers around his chest burn.

His breathing becomes erratic then. Stiles loses focus on the fight and the last thing he hears is a Banshee's wail.

 

“Don't you dare die Stiles!” Derek shouts again. “You don't get to die!” Derek rips apart the restraints and glares at all the blood covering Stiles. The flowers burn to the touch, and the crown proves to be harder to remove than he would have thought. The sticks that are stabbed through his hands are removed next.

Holding this small body in his arms, Derek can see where his tears flowed down his face.

In the background, the Elder is held by Isaac and Jackson. Slowly, a torch flame flickers out.

“He's already dead.”

“No-”

“Yes!” Elder screams. “He is! None of you hear a heartbeat because he's dead!”

“I still feel his presence!” Derek growls out.

“His soul. He is well dead, but his soul has yet to leave the body.”

Scott, Danny, and Lydia step into view from where Lydia had called him to meet. There's tears in her eyes and he shakes, held by Danny.

“This Banshee wailed- if you do not believe me. She found her own way here. By the tears on her face, she had an emotional connection to the boy. You may have killed every one of my clan, but you did not win. The gods will thank my sacrifice and I will be given redemption whether you are to take my life or not. He is dead.” Derek looks to Lydia and she nods, lips curling up with more sobs to come. “And as each of these torches' flames go out, so be it that the life of spark fade with it.” Another flame goes out.

Derek stares at Stiles for a long time. He remembers losing his family to the fire, and this feels worse. When the second to last flame goes out, something builds inside of Derek. Each of the werewolves sense it and the Elder's eyes widen.

“No,” she whispers. “No- no! You can't do this!” She thrashes in the werewolves arms and continues to shout. When the howl erupts from Derek, his face to the sky, Stiles in his arms, the flames begin to ignite. The pack watches as one by one they light up again.

“MY SACRI-” Jackson slits her throat out and they drop her to the ground, all watching Derek. His howl continues and shakes through their bones until the last flame is lit again. Derek's eyes glow red, even when he's finished and he stares down at Stiles.

Black.

Black begins to run up his arms and he realizes that he's draining pain.

A beat.

All the werewolves hear his heart beat as it thumps once, then a few seconds later again. Slowly Stiles' heart beat picks up and his dry lips open, taking in a breath. It's raspy, but they all hear it. Derek slumps in relief and Stiles eyes open just enough to see Derek above him. His eyes glow red, but are rimmed with unshed tears.

“Did I die?” he asks, just enough for Derek to hear. Derek nods and pulls Stiles up, to hold him better in his arms. He makes sure to support Stiles' head with his hand and stares him in the eyes.

“You're okay now,” he responds. “You died, but you're okay now.”

“Okay.”

“It's okay, now.” Derek looks to where there were claw marks on Stiles' shoulders. The blood is still there, but the marks are gone.

Behind them, Scott approaches.

“What did you do?”

 

“I bonded with Stiles,” is what Derek says when they're all at Stiles' house later.

John stands in the doorway with a tired face. They'd already explained everything that had happened that night, but now it was Derek's to explain how'd he saved Stiles.

“As a born werewolf, I have different instincts and feelings, connections with my pack,” he continues. “Losing a member of my pack isn't like losing a family member, it's like losing a limb. When it was my family, my last pack that died, it was physical and mental torture. Seeing Stiles, dead in my arms,” he looks away and takes a breather, “was worse than any of that.” He faces the pack again. “When I was young my mother explained a few things to me. One was about mates. Stiles is my mate and when I realized earlier, I remember that mates bind with their souls. Bonding myself to Stiles grounded him.” The pack is silent, but John looks furious.

“You're telling me my son was unwillingly bonded to you?!” He gets in Derek's face with an accusing finger at his chest.

“No. The bond can only be completed with consent on both ends.” The red from the sheriff's face drains out and footsteps echo on the stairs.

“Dad?” John turns and sees Stiles.

“You're awake.”

“Yeah, and I feel way better than last time I woke up.” The two hug and the pack can feel waves of sadness and happiness coming off of his dad.

“Wait, but how'd he heal?” Danny asks. “He's not turned is he?”

“No. Through the connection I can heal him.”

A pause of silence.

“Sick.” Derek laughs at Stiles. It feels good to know he's alive, well, and breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to get a Scott or Derek story in next


End file.
